


Stranger in the Night

by AliceMontrose



Series: Laures verse [1]
Category: Original Work
Genre: Angst, Dark, Dark Fantasy, M/M, Unresolved Sexual Tension, Vampires
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-09
Updated: 2014-11-09
Packaged: 2018-02-24 16:55:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,593
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2589134
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AliceMontrose/pseuds/AliceMontrose
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Two mysterious strangers are pursuing a band of dangerous demons, and trying to fence off a duke's particular interest in one of them.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Stranger in the Night

**Author's Note:**

> Completed: April 8, 2003

The tavern was dark, and smelled of ale, smoke and sweat. It seemed like half the town had gathered there after sunset, afraid of the dangers the night brought. 

'And rightfully so,' the black-clad stranger reasoned, ignoring the persistent stares he received from most of the women and some of the men. Even with his face hid by the hood of his large cloak – whose folds also covered the rest of his body and the slender sword at his side – his height and lean build made him stand out in the crowd. 

He noted the three men that had followed him around for half the day sitting at a table in the darkest corner, watching him intensely. Were they the ones he was looking for? 

No, apparently not. They were after something else... 

He suddenly hated being in this place, having to constantly be on his guard and protecting these fools from something they were not even aware it could be hiding among them. The ones he hunted were not that stupid, after all. 

The stranger sighed, and forced himself to move. He made his way towards the wooden counter, to order a drink. 

* * *

The three richly-clad men followed his every move with great interest. Duke Janis of Aenix, his Captain of the Guards and his councillor were returning home from the capital city of Bendis, and had stopped in this village for a couple of days, having nothing better to do with their time. And after noticing the stranger coming out of the temple at noon, it seemed their little holiday had turned into something interesting. It was no secret that the Duke was attracted to beauty and mystery, and spent a lot of money collecting rare objects and pursuing interesting people. And, having noticed this particular foreigner, the nobleman found himself greatly attracted to the mystery he represented. 

"He has the grace of a dancer," the Duke whispered to his two companions. Then, he turned to the inn-keeper, who had just personally delivered the rich dinner they had ordered. "That man," he discretely pointed towards the counter, "who is he? Where does he come from?" 

The stout man followed his directions, and his face went blank. "Y-Your Excellency... I cannot tell you who he is. 

"But surely, he must have given you his name!" the captain intervened. The red-haired officer did not like the whole situation; there was something eerie about the stranger that unsettled him greatly. 

"No, Milord, he did not. All I can tell you is that he is here in the company of a woman. They arrived yesterday and requested a room. The room is on the woman's name, not his. That is all I know, I swear!" 

The Duke dismissed the innkeeper and returned to watching the stranger. Not having bothered to remove his hood or gloves, he was sipping from a glass of dark wine, apparently oblivious to any stare he received from the half-drunk patrons. 

'He looks so different from all this junk,' Duke Janis thought. 'So composed and aristocratic... It would be a pity to lose him to some stinking peasant!' 

He tried to eat something, but his eyes returned again and again to the calm figure by the tavern's counter. He thought he had caught a glimpse of dark eyes looking back at him, but the next second it was gone, and he could not be sure if it had been an illusion or not. 'I wonder if he is as handsome as I think he is...' 

* * *

Meanwhile, the stranger took in his surroundings, searching for something only he could find. "Where are you hiding?" he challenged silently. Of course, nobody answered. 

The door opened to allow entrance to an olive-skinned woman around 30 years of age. She was nothing like the fair beauties of the place; in fact, she seemed strong and secure of her actions – which included studying all the patrons with a hawk-like gaze. Her brownish hair was pulled back in a heavy plait, and a faint scar on her left cheek marred what would have otherwise been a lovely face. She wore men's hunting clothes; a heavy sword, a bow and a quiver filled with arrows completed her warrior image. She looked around once more, and headed straight for the black-clad foreigner. 

The man placed the half-empty glass on the counter and opened his arms to her. He gathered her to him and embraced her. "My little angel," he whispered in her ear, "you are late. I was beginning to worry." 

* * *

Over at his table, the Duke of Aenix frowned. "I sincerely hope that woman is not his lover. Because, if she is, I might change my opinion about his apparent good taste." 

The woman seemed to return the affectionate embrace then she pulled away. She motioned for the servant girl to bring her some wine as well. She turned and smiled back at her companion, the scar giving her a ghastly look. 

"Excellency," Captain Tremaine dared, "I think you should reconsider. We know nothing about him, and the woman is acting like a bodyguard. He may be some noble travelling incognito..." 

"I know all the noblemen of this confederacy. None of them looks anything like this man," the Duke snapped. 

* * *

Back at the counter, the woman leaned back near her friend, a hand on the hilt of her sword. "Any luck yet?" 

"I see none in here. But there are too many people – I might be mistaken. What about the information you managed to dig up?" 

"Three victims, so far. A girl and two boys, all young and more or less talented. A painter, a singer, an actor's apprentice. No corpses were found yet." 

"We're probably dealing with a local, then." he said dryly. She did not miss what he implied. 

"I do not deny it, the people of this region seem to have an inclination for –" she coughed, "males... but we could be chasing a female, after all." 

"I wonder which is worse." 

"Is that why you're not taking off your hood?" she asked politely. 

He laughed. "Part of it, yes. But you should know me better by now, Angelina." 

She smiled again, and he took her hand in his, squeezing it lightly. His gaze searched the room again and stopped on an older woman standing at the feet of what seemed an improvised stage. His grip tightened a little. 

"That woman was at the temple today. She asked the Goddess to protect her 'baby'." 

The Temple of Selena was the place where most offers and sacrifices were brought by those who needed immediate protection. 

"And her child is...?" Angelina asked him. He only nodded towards the stage. 

The lights had been dimmed and the whole place was in darkness for a few minutes, until candles were lit all around the wooden platform. On it laid the lithe body of a young boy. A hypnotic music filled the room, as the boy slowly rose and began his dance. 

"A floor show? Really!" 

He laughed silently, and bowed to briefly touch his lips to hers. Her eyes widened in surprise – a long time had passed since he had last done that. A whisper in her ear as he pulled back, caressing her face with soft leather-gloved fingers, told her what she needed to know. 

"The blond man in the right corner has been watching me all day. His clothes say he is of noble origins. I have no doubt this little display is meant solely for him. Now, I have narrowed down the choice to the grey-haired man near the street window, and that wispy girl that is watching the boy from the kitchen door." 

She sighed. "You're the one with demon sight..." 

"Please try to remember that I am not infallible." His nostrils flared – though invisible in the dark, she heard the sound. "But I can feel their scent in the air. Whoever it is, it is getting ready to transform." 

Her hand tightened on her sword. "I'm ready," she said in a determined voice. 

"Patience, my little angel. Patience," he said on an amused tone, focusing on the moving form of the boy. He was a true dancer, not one of those who fooled the crowds from villages pretending to be one. A faint smile crossed his lips – the boy's energy made him a potential target. 

Then he decided to return the nobleman's insistent gaze – he knew what the man wanted, but he was not planning on taking up such a proposal. However, he was somewhat intrigued that the young man had guessed through his disguise that he was no regular traveller; the man was rather good-looking, but... 

Laures grinned – if the patrons of the tavern would know the truth about him... 

* * *

Duke Janis took a moment to turn his head from the artful display on the improvised stage to find the stranger looking back at him. He could not make out the man's features in the darkness, yet he thought he had seen pale flesh as the man bowed to whisper in the woman's ear again. Whatever it was, she stiffened, then she caught his arm and, rising on her tiptoes, she placed a kiss on his cheek. 

They both moved away from the counter, in different directions. Janis was afraid he would lose sight of the man, so he rose from his table as well and made his way through the crowd to finally meet the foreigner face to face near the heavy wooden door and block his path. 

"Where to so hastily?" he asked seductively. 

"Get out of my way, please." 

The nobleman became rigid at the sound of the low, yet commanding voice. A chill ran down his spine, though he could not decide whether in alarm or lust. 

"If it is pleasure you seek – or perhaps a better companion for the night..." The nobleman let his voice trail off, but the suggestion had been explicit enough. He could not explain what it was that was drawing him to this man, whose face he had never seen. He could be ugly, or a brute, for all Janis knew. And still, he wanted him. 

The stranger began to move, trying to get past him. The nobleman grabbed a shoulder covered in thick cloth and pulled him back. "At least you could give me an answer." 

He felt the man's body stiffen. Then the torches in the room suddenly flared intensely, and the duke felt himself being pushed away with such a force he knocked over various drunken villagers and then landed on the rough wood floor. 

He looked up in amazement, to see the hooded stranger looking at a grey-haired villager in the middle of the room. There was something about the bulky ploughman – something odd. The man had... horns? 

He was being helped up. "Your Excellency, are you all right?" Malcolm, his councillor, asked as he and Captain Tremaine helped him stand. 

"What is going on in here?" he managed to ask, before a sharp cry interrupted him. 

A ploughman was changing – but into _what_ , nobody could tell. Panicked men and women ran away from him to take shelter near the walls of the room, like they would find some protection there. Only the stranger in black clothes remained still, watching the creature complete its transformation and thus revealing its true nature. 

It had the head and horns of a bull, but there all resemblance ended. Its body grew and became the shade of dirt, and its hands and feet transformed into clawed paws. A nightmare creature with orange eyes and ferocious fangs, which now advanced slowly towards the stage where the dancing boy had performed. The poor child was still there, petrified, watching the creature approach. 

An arrow flew and hit the creature's shoulder, making it growl and turn to face its source. The brown-haired woman stood on the other side of the wooden platform, bow in hand, prepared to shoot again. Duke Janis and his companions stood horrified, watching the creature slightly change its course. The woman shot again, arrow piercing through an orange eye. A painful roar rose then, as a huge clawed member launched forward to kill the woman – 

– only to meet a cold steel blade that cut through with little effort. The mysterious man had moved so swiftly nobody had noticed, and had cut the creature's arm off. It fell on the ground, and a sickening green-brown liquid began to flow from it and the creature's body. 

The woman jumped out of the way, grabbing a torch in the process. 

With another growl, the creature blindly launched itself against its male opponent. Moving fast and secure on his feet, the man somehow managed to keep his distance, drawing the thing away from its victim and at the same time delivering several serious blows with his sword. The last stroke severed the horned head, and the body crushed on the floor, the dark liquid forming a puddle. 

The woman approached now, and threw the torch on the corpse. A white flame burst up, and then it was gone just as fast, leaving nothing but a pile of black powder and an extinguished torch where the creature's body had fallen. 

The stranger remained stiff, blade in his right hand, looking down at the floor through lowered eyelids. His cloak lay abandoned on the wooden floor, and now everybody could see his face. 

Duke Janis drew his breath. The man was incredibly attractive. He had a lean strong body, encased in a silk shirt, leather leggings and sleeveless tunic, and soft boots and gloves, all in black. His pale skin glowed slightly in the torchlight, giving him a look of outwordliness. Dark eyes, a high brow and a smooth unblemished face were framed by lustrous hair that fell free on his shoulders in a pitch black curtain. 

'Who are you?' Janis thought, enraptured by such beauty. He now knew he had to have this man, no matter what. 

"Laures, is everything alright?" the woman with the scarred face asked him in a low voice. 

That seemed to pull him out of his reveries. He turned to her, and cupped her face in his free hand, speaking loudly enough to be heard by the terrified patrons. "I am well, my angel, perfectly well." He smiled – and then looked around the room again. "Where is the boy?" 

She froze. "I thought he was with his mother." 

The man she had called Laures narrowed his eyes. His nostrils flared, as if he was testing the air. "The serving woman?" he asked coldly. 

Meeting his companion's clueless gaze, he stiffened. "Merda! Questo proprio non ci serviva!" he spoke in a language so unfamiliar that the duke tried hard to recall if he had ever heard anything like it before. He had not – and he would have given anything to understand what those words had meant. 

Laures looked sharply at the woman. "Stay here, Angelina. Make sure these people are safe. If I do not return by sunrise, you will know that I am dead." He then turned to the inn-keeper, who had finally dared to peak out from under the counter. "What is the way to the catacombs?" 

The chubby man's voice trembled as he replied. "Right next to the Temple of Selena. The entrance is in the mausoleum. But, milord..." 

The man did not wait for him to finish the sentence. He was out of the tavern and into the night. 

* * *

Alone, Laures could finally use his powers to their full potential. In one high heap, he landed on the roof of a four-storey building, having no problem maintaining his equilibrium. He began a deadly race on the reed-covered rooftops; time was his enemy, that night. 

Sword still in his right hand, he landed in front of the marble stairs leading up the small hill to the temple. In spite of the pitch darkness, he bent down to touch his fingers to one smooth step, then brought them up to his nose and sniffed at them. It was blood. 

As he stood, his eyes blazed red, and he climbed up the steep hill with long strides, not pausing to catch his breath. If this was a hunt, then he was the perfect hunter. 

He had no problem locating the small stone mausoleum – he had seen it clearly during the daylight hours, while thoroughly inspecting the town and looking for likely hiding places. The demons he was chasing could not walk around in the sunlight – it was one of his greatest advantages. 

He looked at the broken padlock – it had been intact when he had seen it before. The demon's stench filled the air. He was on the right track. 

Yet he had to be extremely careful. Females were the worst – especially during pregnancy. Still, if this was the case here, the four children might still be alive. The creature would not waste their pure energy, and it would wait for the right time to kill them. 

He took a deep breath. There was no other way, was there? 

He pushed the door open and began descending into the darkness of the underground catacombs. 

* * *

The villagers had been in an uproar, but the brown-haired woman had somehow managed to calm them down enough to have them block any possible access way in and out of the tavern. The main entrance was heavily barred, and was not to be opened without her allowance. Or so she had ordered. 

Janis studied her as she sat down at a table, alone, her sword unsheathed and placed within her hand's reach. 

' _Angelina_ ,' the man had called her. ' _My little angel_ ' – though she looked about 10 years older than him, and certainly did not have the beauty one associated with such celestial creatures. Not with that disfiguring scar on her face. 

But Laures... Oh, even his name sounded divine in Janis' ears, and clung to his tongue as he whispered it again and again. "How can he favour _that_ over me?" the Duke mused. 

"Pardon, Your Excellency?" Malcolm asked. The Captain only looked at him, but he too had no idea what the nobleman's words meant. 

"That woman," he explained, "she is so... so... _plain_! How can he possibly kiss her, and call her his _angel_?! How can he _refuse me_?!" 

Malcolm chose not to answer. He was older, and knew more about life than the other two. Tremaine, on the other hand, did not hesitate to provide an answer for his liege. 

"Your Excellency, please excuse my presumptuousness, but it was hardly a refusal. Perhaps he even saved your life!" He pointed at the pile of ashes that still covered the floor, to get his point across. "Perhaps you should try again, under more civil circumstances." 

And what if there was no 'again'? Beautiful Laures had gone out into the night, to destroy whatever he was after – but what if that thing killed him instead? He had expressed his own doubts of survival; he had said that he could die! 

"How can you just stand here and do nothing?" the Duke yelled at the woman. 

She lifted her face to look at him with narrowed eyes. She truly had the gaze of a hawk. "This is none of your business, milord," she replied calmly. 

He was now outraged. "It is _yours_! How could you let him go out alone, at night no less, to fight some creature from hell, all by himself?" 

"You have no idea what you are talking about, milord. Please remain calm." 

That did it. He was on his feet, and would have strangled her had Tremaine not held him back. "You bitch! How dare you! Do you know who I am? The Duke of Aenix! I can have you executed on the spot for this offence." 

She looked at him daringly, a grim smile on her face. "He would have your head, then. He is not such a frail creature, you know. And he can be extremely cruel, if he so chooses." 

His fury was replaced by doubt. She surely was not talking about Laures! 

She rose too, and continued, "You don't even know him." She approached the duke's table. "I have heard of you and your obsession, Your Excellency. But you can forget about Laures. He is more than you can handle," she said bluntly. She looked him up and down carefully. "Besides, I am not sure that he would want to have anything to do with you. You are well under his standards." With that, she gave him an amused look, and returned to her own table, resting her head on her crossed arms. 

"This affront will not go unpunished," the Duke promised himself. 

* * *

Laures followed the path that the demon had left into pitch darkness. But this was his domain, and a true hunter always concealed his positions; a torch would have easily delivered him into the creature's claws. 

He crept through the corridors with easy grace, his boots barely touching the cold stone. He felt free again, and in control of his destiny. Like he had been once, so long ago, before this nightmare had begun. Free to do as he pleased, to go where he wanted, untroubled by petty fears and desires. 

A horrified cry pierced the deadly silence. It was not very far away, and Laures used it to guide his steps towards the place it had come from. Inarticulate growls and someone's weeping soon led him to the demon's hideout. A faint and unnatural green light could be seen at the end of the corridor, and he felt a stench filling his lungs. Had he been human, he would have thrown up a long time ago. 

He hated chasing these 'vampires', as the humans had called them. They were not by any means similar to the ancient mythological species they had been named after. They were demons, with no conscience and a strong instinct of self-preservation. Shape-shifting creatures feeding on human terror and flesh. To them, blood was nothing more than an appetizer. 

He could smell the precious liquid flowing from fresh wounds. Was he too late, then? But no, the crying was still there, and two weak, but human heartbeats. He had to hurry. 

Going around the corner, a cruel vision met his sight. It was, indeed, a female demon preparing to breed. 'Merda!' he swore again in his mind. 'This is going to be tough.' 

The demon was bent over and feeding on the meat of a young boy. Another desecrated corpse lay further off, and the other two children were huddled in each other's arms, crying. One of them was the dancer boy, the other seemed to be a young girl – both terrified and convinced they would die soon. 

Laures took one step further, making sure it was loud enough to be heard by the monster. And it was. The creature turned towards him, its pale yellow eyes meeting his own glowing red ones. It snarled, displaying a pointed set of teeth. One of the children screamed, but the demon seemed to consider Laures more of a threat than a horrified human child. 

He smiled ferociously, pulling back his lips to reveal his own sharp canines, which had grown to their full length. The creature studied him, and he could see something stirring inside it. 

Damn, this was going to be close! 

Then it attacked. Mindlessly, yet with enough instinct to protect its unborn creation. Laures had to fight for his life now, and all other things subsided in the animalistic battle. 

His sword proved to be an advantage, and he delivered a few good blows before the female demon somehow managed to pull it out of his hand with a furious roar. It fell on the cold rock with a metallic sound, and Laures had to dodge off those uncontrolled claws repeatedly, so he had little time to grab the metal weapon once more. One clawed limb caught his right hip, and with a cry of pain he pulled back, feeling his blood flowing free from the wound. 

He was injured now, and without a weapon. He could have always ran away to feed and recover his forces; but then his mission would fail and the children – not just these two, but all the others in the village, and then the cities around it – would die. 

He decided to give it one last try. Holding his injured side with one hand, he rolled out of the creature's way and with his legs he kicked the demon's feet off the floor. He jumped high to avoid being crushed under the falling body, and landed several feet back, close to his weapon. He grabbed the ornamented pommel, and with one rapid movement he was on the monster's back, plunging the cold steel through its heart. He did this thrice, and each time the demon growled louder. He could have sworn there were two sounds, one that came from the unborn creature. Stepping off the fallen body, he severed its head, and then easily turned the corpse on its back, oblivious to the horrified sounds coming from behind him. Several blows through the abdomen, and orange liquid began to pour out, mingling with the ugly green fluid flowing from the adult creature's corpse. 

He was done. Praised gods, he was done. It was over. 

He fell on his hands and knees, exhausted. The wound at his side throbbed; it was already healing, but he needed nourishment to speed up the process, not to mention recovering his lost strength. 

Hot blood, pouring through fragile veins. Two heartbeats trembling behind him. He turned suddenly and snarled, and the two children drew back, screaming again. 

Yes, the children. He could take _them_ , and blame the demon for their deaths, couldn't he? 

He licked his lips. Fresh, young blood, and so close at hand... He got up, and took one step towards them – 

And met the two pairs of desperate, horrified eyes fixing him. 

He trembled. These were _children_ ; the ones he had sworn to rescue. He could not kill them – no, he had sworn never to harm such young humans. He had promised himself to protect them... 

Laures' head spun, and he felt his feet give out under him. He forced himself to remain standing. He had to get them out of here – they would not find the way on their own. 

He raised an unsteady hand pointing at a torch burning green in the stinking air that filled the underground tunnels. "Il fuoco," he managed to utter. "Fire," he repeated in their language. "I need to... burn... _that_!" he gestured back towards the mass of decomposing flesh behind him. 

The two children stared at him in shock. The girl still cried; but the older boy – the dancer – understood. He drew back to the wall, and clumsily lifted the torch. Fear in his eyes, he reached out and offered it to the creature that called himself Laures. 

Laures tried to smile, knowing the canines should be half-retracted by now. He gestured towards the way he had come. "L'uscita... the exit... that way –" he pointed again. 

The boy pulled the little girl along. Balancing the torch in one hand, Laures let go of his injured side and grabbed his sword with the bloodied hand. He forced himself to follow the children, throwing the burning object on the mass of demon flesh. It burned to ashes in an instant. 

The children were waiting for him. It surprised Laures a little, but he realized they were aware of the fact they were at his mercy now. They both looked at him with pleading eyes. 

He sheathed his sword and sighed. "Come here," he motioned for the girl. She hid behind her friend, but again Laures smiled. "Don't be afraid," he said in his kindest tone of voice. "I shall take you back to your families. Come." 

Fearfully, they did. He took the girl in his arms gently; she seemed weightless. Laures' strength was still there – but slowly failing, he knew. He had to move fast. He took the boy's trembling little hand, and began walking towards the exit. 

The gods had been with him once more. 

* * *

It was now well past midnight, and everyone's fear had made Angelina a little frightened herself. What if Laures would not make it? What if, this time, he would be killed? 

Of course, they had dispatched of demons before, but never in a village, and the locals would want some explanation, and details. And if Laures transformed... 

'No, he will _not_!' she cast away the thought. 'He is different, he is not like them!' she reminded herself. 

But was he that different? Could he have been lying to her all these years? 

'This is foolish. Stop it!' she ordered her mind. 

The presumptuous young duke had fallen asleep in the meantime, and so had half the people in the tavern. She had a hard time fighting the drowsiness herself, but she _had_ to stay awake. She was supposed to protect the locals, and would not fall asleep while on duty. 

"Excuse me, Miss..." a voice interrupted her train of thoughts. She turned to find the red-haired officer that attended the Duke of Aenix looking at her. 

She yawned. "What do you want?" 

"I was wondering... if your friend returns – alive, of course... could he not be persuaded to accept – at least for one night –" 

He blushed fiercely, and Angelina laughed bitterly. "Did your young lord order you to ask me this?" 

"No, I..." the man looked at his feet guiltily. "Try to understand this situation. His Excellency is a stubborn man. He always gets what he wants, and is willing to do anything to obtain it. He would mobilize the entire army to capture you, should you refuse to obey. I thought that, like this, it would spare all of us the trouble." He smiled shyly. 

"You are not a stupid man... captain, is it?" 

"Captain Richard Tremaine, at your orders, Miss." 

"Right then, captain – my friend is his own master. I do not order him around. He does what he chooses, and I'm the one who usually ends up going along with his wishes. Now, should he not want to be found, no army in this world will learn where he is. And if His Excellency has something to say to him, I suggest he does so personally, and in my friend's presence. Agreed?" 

The man nodded and went back to take his place near the sleeping duke. 

What was it about these men that concerned her that much? 

Her eyes had begun to close again, as a loud pounding on the main entrance made everybody stir. Another knock, and a voice she knew well shouted, first in the secret language and then in normal speech. "Angie! Apri la porta! Dammit, open this door!" 

She jumped up and gestured for the men that she had placed near it to unbolt and unlock it. They obeyed, a little sleepily. 

When the door was finally opened, two children hurried in. They were met by startled cries, and Angelina recognized the dancing boy as one of them. As for Laures... 

He staggered in, supporting himself on the wooden frame a little too long, his tunic and shirt torn and caked with blood. His eyes were glowing and his hair was in disarray. 

He let go of the jamb and she hurried to him, catching him before he fell. He leaned on her, grateful for the support. Hot tears fell down Angelina's cheeks and into his midnight hair. "Laures," she said, in between sobs, "you're hurt!" 

He touched a slender hand to her shoulder, and pulled himself up slowly, to look her in the eyes. The red glow was still there, but the strands of hair falling across his face hid it from indiscrete stares. 

"Angie... Need to... feed... I must..." 

She nodded. "Come. I'll take you upstairs." 

His body became rigid. "No! Too great a risk!" 

She smiled, truly touched; he was still afraid for her life. "You won't hurt me, Laures. Not _me_. Come." 

* * *

Janis rubbed his eyes as he watched the woman half-dragging Laures with her. The man visibly struggled to stay on his feet, exhausted and probably even injured. He clung to his companion for support, yet refused to give up completely. 

What type of man was he? What kind of courage did he possess?  And _who was he_? 

The nobleman watched the two ascending the stairs to the first floor, where the sleeping rooms were located. He looked for any sign of life under the matted hair, but could not find any. 

Not until Laures looked at him. 

Under the heavy curtain falling down his shoulders, his eyes had an eerie red glow, and as he breathed heavily Duke Janis thought he had caught sight of two sharp fangs under his upper lip. The duke's body went cold with dread. But then the two disappeared behind a wooden door, and Janis could not recall which one exactly. 

Janis blamed his imagination for what he had seen. He had witnessed too many dreadful events that night to last him a few years. 

He called for the inn-keeper. "Ale!" he ordered. "For everyone. My treat. And bring me a bottle of that damned red liquid the strangers were drinking earlier!" 

* * *

Laures woke up in darkness, vaguely aware of where he was – lying on a warm bed, his hands around his precious child. 

Worried, he checked for any sign of serious injuries on Angelina's body. There were none, except for the vicious puncture marks on her wrist. He sighed in relief – he had not lost control, after all. She had been right; he would no harm her, willingly or unwillingly. 

He rose to his feet, his strength almost fully restored. He peeked outside the window, from behind the pulled drapes. It was still early, and the sun had not fully risen. 

Letting the drapes back down, he carefully pulled the blanket over Angelina's sleeping form – his own, made of soft wool, not the coarse thing the room had come with. Trailing one finger on the woman's forehead, he whispered, "Sleep, my little angel. Sleep and heal." 

Though she was thirty-two years old, he still saw her as his child. He had raised her, and had made sure she had received the best education. She alone had chosen to remain by his side, and she was his best friend and only companion. 'Father,' she had used to call him – and still did occasionally – although they came from two different worlds. But in his loneliness, she had been the anchor to this new reality, this world he had to adapt to less he would truly die. 

He left the room without too much noise, locking the door behind him and making his way downstairs, dressed only in his leggings and a clean shirt. It would probably be considered outrageous, but the villagers would never dare turn against the one that had saved them from the demons. It was a constant occurrence wherever he went. 

One look around the hall told him that the other guests, the ones that had so rudely interfered the night before, were in the hall as well. And the young one was still watching him, his desire clear in his deep blue eyes. "Keep on dreaming, little mortal," he whispered to himself. 

The inn-keeper bowed to him deeply, and asked him, "Milord, what can I do for you this morning?" 

The man's subservience made him sick; but he kept his calm. "Breakfast would be a good start. Toast, honey, warm milk, and plenty of fresh fruit. To be delivered here as soon as possible." 

"Yes, milord." He turned to a teenage girl who was probably his daughter and ordered her to "go prepare what milord has requested". 

Wary, Laures leaned on the counter as he had the night before, and allowed himself to study the blond nobleman without the cover his hood had offered. A man who usually had his way, from the way he sat at his table returning Laures' intent look. A man one normally feared; a man who was obsessed. 

'Yes... I know what you're after,' Laures thought. 'Unfortunately for you, you're not going to get it.' 

He traded glances with the nobleman for a while, waiting for the breakfast he had ordered. The noble – Duke Janis of Aenix, Angelina had told him – was not unpleasant to look at, but he wasn't Laures' idea of a pleasant company. And after the previous night Laures truly didn't need any more attention drawn to his person. 

Besides, why bother with an infatuated mortal? The duke would get over it eventually, and Laures didn't like being thought of as an object in a collection. He was far too old to find a purpose in such trivial endeavours. 

He frowned as the nobleman finally made up his mind to come near him, ignoring the alarmed protests of one of his companions. A warrior that one, and more likely to identify a perilous situation when he saw it. Normally Laures didn't even bother talking to those that would occasionally ask for his attention in such private matters, but instead showed them it had been a very bad idea to approach him. This time, however, there were people present besides the two of them, and the Duke was a respected man. So Laures decided to simply talk him out of it, threaten him a little perhaps, but not harm him physically. He wondered if the Duke would heed his warning. 

As Janis smiled broader and approached, Laures decided to hide a fake yawn behind a gloved hand, in a clear display of annoyance. It did not seem to deter the nobleman, who stopped a few paces away from the counter – and Laures, implicitly – and offered his hand in greeting. 

"I believe I forgot to introduce myself last night. I am Janis, Duke of Aenix. And you, I hear, are Laures, the village's new hero." 

Dark eyes narrowed, Laures did not accept the extended hand. "I know who you are, _milord_. As for me, I am by all means named Laures –" 'at least in this age and place,' he added to himself, "– but I am no hero. I was simply doing what needed to be done. And I expect no rewards." 

Judging by the dark look on Janis' face, Laures knew he had judged correctly. He had been about to offer him a reward, and he could easily guess what it would have implied. 'No luck, mortal! What next?' 

Changing strategy, the Duke exclaimed, "But surely there must be _something_ you desire!" 

'Yes, for you to leave me alone, pestering human. Why can't you take a hint and go away?' Laures thought, but he only shook his head. "Nothing that you may offer interests me." He knew he was purposefully being rude, but Janis was not the only headstrong person in the room. He had to keep his position and eventually the other would give up. 

Catching movement from the kitchen with the corner of his eye, he smiled coolly at his undesired company. "If you will excuse me, my food is here and my companion will be very hungry this morning." He scooped the tray from the serving maid's hands before she even got the chance to set it down on the counter, and turned toward the stairs with the intent to go up, but he found his wrist caught in the nobleman's hand. 

Laures couldn't help grinning as Janis flinched at the contact with the cold skin. It was no human's flesh, and Laures knew that; it was the reason he normally wore gloves. He glared down at the startled Duke with what he hoped was more than a little impatience. 

"If you excuse me, milord," he added, his tone clearly implying he had not enjoyed the conversation. He easily broke free from the frozen grasp and made his way upstairs, not bothering to look back; showing distress or the barest hint of interest would have only served to encourage the man's advances. And Laures had the feeling Duke Janis would try again. No matter, he and Angelina had planned on leaving that morning anyway. 

* * *

He was right, of course. After Angelina had awoken and had had her breakfast, and Laures had made sure the loss of blood would not in any way affect her severely, they had packed their bags. There was no purpose in prolonging their stay as their goal had been accomplished and the demons destroyed, and Laures did not wish to linger because then the villagers would start asking uncomfortable questions, questions he had no desire to answer. When they were done, he sent Angelina ahead to the stables with their luggage – there wasn't much of it, for they always travelled lightly – and he went on to pay for the room, this time fully dressed and armed. 

As expected, Duke Janis was in the hall; he was talking to the inn-keeper and the smile on his face as he saw Laures come down the stairs for the second time that day quickly turned from malicious to friendly. The gleam in his eyes as he sized Laures betrayed his thoughts, however; for once, Laures was very thankful of his ability to read people so easily. 

"Is milord leaving so soon?" the inn-keeper asked, drawing a smirk from Laures' otherwise unreadable face. It had been some time since he had last been addressed in such a meek voice, and it reminded him of a time long ago when people would bow in his way. He had hated every second of it. 

"Indeed," he answered firmly. "How much do I owe you?" 

The man swallowed hard, daring a glance in the Duke's direction. No doubt trying to decide how much his life was worth. "Nothing, milord. His Excellency has settled the pay for you and your companion." 

"I see. Very well, then." He threw Janis a glance that told the Duke that Laures did not like to be bought, and continued in the same firm voice. "Kindly return _His Excellency_ the money he has given you. _Now_." 

Whether because of Laures' voice or his icy glare, the inn-keeper produced some coins from the pocket of his apron with shaking hands. It was clear that the nobleman would never accept the money back, but the gestured served Laures' intention to get his point across. He took notice of the five gold coins, likely twice as much as the room and food had been worth, and offered the inn-keeper as much, and two more. 

"For the wreckage I caused last night," he said, and started walking toward the door. He could hear the horses in front of the inn, and Angelina's soft steps as she paced around. He allowed himself a small smile as he thought of her. 

I was with great annoyance therefore that he turned around and caught Janis' arm in his right before it could settle on him, his left hand resting on the hilt of his sword as he frowned at the Duke for one final time. Or so he hoped. 

"I will not let you leave," the blond man claimed haughtily, making it clear to Laures that Janis wasn't quite sane, courting danger the way he did. 'I suppose I'll have to spell it out for him after all.' He wasn't very fond of those who wouldn't take a hint – or more than one hint – and keep their distance. And he doubted Janis was just plain stupid; more like obstinate. 

"You truly don't get it do you? _I want nothing to do with you_. It's that simple." 

"But I want you!" Janis insisted, making Laures roll his eyes. He had sounded like a child asking for his favourite candy. 

"I don't _care_ what you want, Janis of Aenix. I am also going to say this just once. For your safety and that of your men, you will _stay away from me_. Courting danger has never brought anyone any good. And I _am_ dangerous!" 

"Yes, you are," Janis answered, nearly purring in spite of the tight grip Laures had on his hand. "A dangerous beauty begging to be conquered." 

Letting out a hopeless growl, Laures finally gave up on fine manners and released Janis' hand, gripping him by the neck instead and lifting him up effortlessly until his feet left the floor. "Heed my words, Duke Janis. Should you or your men come anywhere near me again, you will pay with your lives. I do not have the time or the patience for your foolish games, nor do I feel any desire to share your bed any time soon. This is my last warning. _Leave me alone_!" he seethed. 

With that, he released the man and walked away with barely a glance at the heap of blond hair and expensive clothing on the inn's floor. 

Angelina cast him an amused look from the door, but only after they had mounted and had guided their horses on the path leading out of the village did she start laughing silently. "You truly did that to a duke and got away with it!" she exclaimed, making him chuckle as well. 

"A stubborn duke," he added. "Let us hope he finally understood the message and keeps his distance." 

"He will," she assured him. "After all, why would he want to pursue a stranger in the night?" 

* * *

**~ The End ~**

* * *


End file.
